Memory of Horror
by TryRunAgainstTheWind
Summary: The team are back, with the giant exception of Cobb. They have been offered another job. But can they succeed this time without Cobb, and with the distractions that they just can't help but make for each other, conscious or sub conscious?
1. Chapter 1

Ariadne opened the newspaper carefully, sipping her coffee simultaneously.

_**Robert Fischer dissolves his father's empire! **__The heir to the massive, multi-billion dollar corporation has chosen to have the whole empire dissolved into smaller businesses. The reasons for his actions are still unknown…_

Her breath caught in her throat as she scanned the rest of the article. She put the coffee down and left the shabby café around the corner of her apartment.

Ariadne knew she would probably never see the six men ever again. Inception was as complex as it was dangerous, with many powerful faces of modern day society requesting for their future services. They were too blunt to get their own hands dirty, Ariadne had once thought to herself, irritated.

Of course, she had returned straight back to college. Her career in dreaming was extinguished, a once off. But in reality, it was only just beginning. After school, she would get a job, probably a small one, and she would gradually lead up to a healthy, well paid one. Maybe designing a new building, a Catholic Church, a new road.

But there would always be that sour after taste of dissatisfaction; for she had lived through the most gruelling, exhausting and rigorous experience of her entire life. It had been by far, the best job, she ever had, or _would_, get.

Ariadne walked through the grounds of the college; it was a warm autumn's day, with crispy orange leaves mashed under her boot. People had always commented on her stride. She more bounced clumsily than walked. She was unaware of the time, and the shadow watching her from a respectable distance.

"Un café, sil vous plait." Ariadne sighed and crossed her legs. She pulled out a sketchbook and studied the complicated geometrical lines that filled her brain, mostly with boredom. She had not been counting the time since Inception, it had not seemed relevant. She had once longed to return to the workhouse and make beautiful and impossibly complicated paradoxes. But there was no good in wishing you could be doing something that you can't, when you could pick up your life and live with what you've got.

That was her attitude to life now; just go with the flow of your life. Sometimes, if felt like a living thing, a thick pulse rushing around her head as she would try to gather her thoughts.

She was so engrossed in her own philosophical thoughts, that she did not see the slight man sit into a table only a few metres away.

"Merci beacup." She nodded at the willowy waitress. _I am happy_, Ariadne thought placidly. And she was. She did not feel the crippling anxiety as she used to, but more a rested contentedness. Though that calm reverie could be easily broken with just a brief hallucination. A hallucination of Eames' back, or Yusuf's hair, or Cobb's demeanour, or Arthur's frame. She would stand for a few seconds, mildly dazed, and carry on with whatever she was doing.

She took her coffee and bobbed back to the small grass circle the University liked to call the park. She ran a hand through her hair and watched the patterns of the clouds. She was still unaware of the man following her.

* * *

Arthur watched Ariadne leave the school patisserie with an absent minded purse of the lips. He let his eyes follow her back through the windy, red lane of the park. Sighing, he got up and pursued her. He had to confront her soon enough, as the feeling of stalking the girl was infuriating.

Arthur obviously did not look like a student, and attracted a few puzzled glances from the young and naïve passers-by. He found Ariadne curled on a wall with her legs folded flicking through a text book.

"Ariadne," He called. Her head snapped towards his voice. "Could I please talk to you?"

* * *

Eames sat in the hot fuggy room that over looked the view of southern Monte Carlos. Smoke curled from his mouth as he tipped the ash of his cigar into a plant. "Who is the Mark?" He questioned the elderly man. He had sun weathered skin with deepening creases around his eyes and forehead. His silvery hair was pulled back into a little pony tail, revealing his rheumy eyes.

"Her name is Élodie Maia. Her father owns the largest chain of legal and illegal drugs throughout all of Europe and half of America already. She has been making herself very well known in the tabloids for numerous of prostitution scandals, along with drug use and beating up a taxi driver."

"And why do you need this Inception performed on her?" Eames slouched lazily on the plush sofa.

"Her father owns the key to a new drug; similar to Paracetamol or an aspirin, but much more powerful. It has been tested in Saudi Arabia and all those third world countries, but the government granted it unsafe. We need this drug."

"And why is that?"

"I'm not sure if I can trust you yet, Mr Eames." Jacob Alliante smirked in the smoky light.

"Well Jacob, if you do not need our services-" He stood up.

"No! No, that is not what I meant. This job is with one of the most powerful people. They could grant you your any wish, but you already know that. Your friend Cobb has already been blessed with his little family reunion…"

"Is that a threat, Jacob?" Eames raised his eyebrows sceptically.

"Believe me, Mr Eames; you would know if it was a threat." Jacob's smirk deepened.

"So, why do you need this drug?"

"It's called Elemante. We need it because there is a new and extremely confidential program Aika Industries is running."

"And what would this supreme and utterly confidential program be?" Eames licked his chapped lips.

"That's not important. We need you to tell Élodie to give us a sample of the drug. Her father is one headline short from kicking her into a mental institute, and she has all of his drugs, legal and illegal." Jacob gulped his fresh beer. "So, Mr Eames. Are you in?"

"Well, Arthur has already been onto the phone with me about this job, and he seems to think its stable enough. Yes, I'm in." Eames pursed his lips.

"Superb!" Jacob gave a sloppy grin. "Assemble your team Mr Eames, and I will meet with you very soon."

This was Eames' cue to leave. He nodded at Jacob, and left to another casino.


	2. Chapter 2

Ariadne wasn't sure how to react. Arthur was standing a few feet away, picking at something in his hand, probably his totem. She kept chewing her home made sandwiches with wide shocked eyes.

"Arthur! W-what a surprise…"She finally stuttered.

"Could we talk?" Arthur repeated.

"Sure." Ariadne said, dazed, and followed him down the lane. "Why are you here? I thought everything was… over."

Arthur turned on his heel to face her. "We need your help Ariadne. I know you've only ever experienced one job, and Inception of all jobs, but our services have been required again-"

Ariadne leant on a brick wall, an eyebrow raised and a sceptical frown. "And you want me to be the Architect?" she interrupted him mid rant.

"Yes." Arthur let out a breath he hadn't even known he was holding.

Ariadne's face skewered in contemplation; she shook her head. "I don't think so Arthur. After Inception, I had nightmares for about… 2 months straight. I'm not sure if I want that again."

Arthur could not hide the disbelief. "What? You… you don't _want_ to dream again?"

"Mm… not particularly." She shook her head again.

"Ariadne," He held her shoulders. Ariadne tried unsuccessfully not to cringe under his touch. "You were born to do this. I have never in my life, come across someone who can catch onto things as fast as you do." There was a strange glow burning in his eyes Ariadne had never seen before.

"Arthur, I've been trying very hard to pick up my life where it was last _dropped_. I have accepted the fact that I will never dream again." Ariadne glared at him. He dropped his hands from her shoulders. "Why me anyway? I'm sure there's someone in this whole University better than me."

"But that's the thing. There's not." Arthur persisted.

Ariadne's heart thudded irregularly. "Whatever. I just don't think I should-" her chin lifted indignantly.

"Please. Just," He paused to sigh. "Just come to the workhouse and look at the Mark. Please."

"No, Arthur. Why should I? What is in it for me except money? Because believe me, I don't need your money-" She was getting angrily flustered.

"You know why." Arthur narrowed his eyes. Ariadne's shoulders slumped as she felt the defeat creep in. "And now," He glanced over her indifferently. "You're just digging for reasons not to."

Ariadne's mouth was a white line of conflict. "You have my number." She nodded at Arthur and walked back to the College.

Arthur stared at her, confused. He left the University grounds, and called Eames.

"Well?" Eames voice crackled.

"I _think_ she's in."

"Oh no, did you kiss her again? Because not all women find that endearing and romantic…"

"Stop it Eames." Arthur snapped.

"Well you have to do a little better than '_think_.'" Eames replied with his irritating sarcasm.

"I don't know! She just said 'You have my number' and walked away. What does that mean so, Eames, seeing as you're the expert on humanism and behaviourism, in particular women, seeing as all you do is sleep with them-" Arthur rambled angrily.

"Correction, I only sleep with sexy women." Eames interrupted.

"Eames." Arthur growled.

"Well, she said 'You have my number'. Yes Arthur, I think she's in." Eames rolled his eyes.

"When will you be back?"

"Pet, if I'd known you missed me that much, I never would've left." Eames chortled.

"Yes, my life is just incomplete without an arrogant, self-absorbed bastard irritating me every time I need to work."

"Ouch." Eames smiled. "I'm taking a flight to Paris in three days. I have to pick up Yusuf and meet with Jacobs' associates."

"Ok. I'll talk everything over with Ariadne while you're gone."

"You do that darling; just don't bed her till after the job, if you wouldn't mind." Eames jeered.

"I'll keep that in mind." Arthur retorted and hung up. Eames was smiling to himself, and he went to clean the mess of pillows and a woman's brown body tangled in his bed.

* * *

Ariadne was sitting cross legged on the deck chair. The workhouse/reformed warehouse was heated only by the wan sun from the window and the crappy heater bought in the supermarket. Arthur was tapping away on his computer.

"Here you go." He handed her the black folder containing every fact about Élodie Maia that he could possibly find. Ariadne flicked through the twenty or so pages of pictures and information, scrutinising the pages, and occasionally wincing.

She didn't notice Arthur staring her with curiosity. He watched the way she twirled her finger around her hair, or tapped her foot impatiently.

"Arthur," she murmured so quietly he had to strain to hear. "Was Élodie… abused as a child?" Ariadne looked up from the deck chair. The dangerously quiet tone and serious frown worried him.

"Yes. She was physically abused by her brother until she was sixteen," Arthur scratched his head. Ariadne bit her lip in horror. "But then left home to pursue her career as a musician."

Ariadne nodded solemnly. "Ok. This is going to be tricky. I'll have to make the layers in such a way, that…" Ariadne's voice cracked, and she stopped talking.

"Are you ok?" Arthur kneeled down and put a comforting hand on her shoulder.

"I'm fine." She snapped and pushed his hand away. She was hiding something.

"What is it Ariadne?" They were both standing now. He tried to take a step towards her.

"Nothing Arthur. Jesus! I'm fine." Ariadne scowled and moved away.

"Alright." He wasn't convinced. "Well, are you in? As in, properly in? You're not going to give me some strange, subtle hint that doesn't say whether you want to do this job or not-"

"I'm in Arthur." Ariadne gave him an apologetic smile.

"Good. Eames will be here tomorrow with Yusuf, and we will get started." Arthur nodded, the deepening lines of worry disappeared.

"I look forward to it." Ariadne smiled to herself, and got back to researching.

* * *

"Come on Yusuf! You're not that old." Eames huffed as the two men hid in a murky casino. Yusuf was panting like an overweight dog gone for a jog.

"Yes, well, you're not as lean and fit as you think you are either, smartass." Yusuf grumbled. Eames chuckled heartedly, and the two men stumbled over to the corner where they could hide.

"How did those bastards even know I was here?" Eames asked the exhausted Yusuf.

"I don't know, Eames. Word spreads around here," He brushed the sweat from his brow. "I still don't see why we had to go on a mad chase from them."

"Would you like to go back and reason with the six foot four wall of a man with a machete?" Eames shot back.

"Never mind then." Yusuf replied. Eames rolled his eyes.

"Righto, let's go. We have a job to do." Eames smirked, and the two men slipped out unnoticed, Yusuf grunting all the way.


End file.
